Shades of Life
by chronically radioactive
Summary: Two years after the successful plant-landing, Amy and Elder have grown apart. Each have begun separate lives in the large city-settlement of Godspeed, on Centauri-Earth. However, tensions and violence are rising between the native people and the settling humans. M for later chapters, swearing, and violence.
1. Carnival of Light

_a/n: So I realize the fandom for this series is ridiculously small, but I love it anyway. This is_ _slightly AU, since we don't know what happens after they land. So, anyway...enjoy!_

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They're not as hostile as the probe reports led us to believe. It might be just another trick, one of the many fabrications we've uncovered onboard the Godspeed.

It's been two years - a whole _728_ days - since the successful planet-landing. The Shippers, what remained of the original crew, proved skilled enough to get us safely onto Centauri-Earth's surface. Landing was a bit trickier, and I once tried to explain the idea of airplanes to Elder sometimes, how the descent was like turbulence, but that seemed like forever ago. I haven't spoken to him in a long time.

_We've both changed. Changed a lot, in so little time, _I think, tuning out the voices around me in the lab.

Centauri-Earth is like…well, it's enough like Earth, _Sol-Earth_, but I'm still not used to the differences. The colors seem more vibrant, more saturated than "back home", but maybe that's because Godspeed was so monochrome all the time, and I'm used to gray walls. It's also open. The sky, the ground – it seems so much larger than Earth.

Elder and the rest, those who were born on Godspeed - the alienation from cold, comforting metal was difficult for them.

_Elder._

I think about him too often, nowadays. More than I used to, when we were actually together – even if it was mourning the death of friends, the death of innocence on Godspeed…innocence that I sometimes think might never have existed in the first place.

I do a lot of depressing, psychological thinking like that, now. After the last supplies of Phydus was destroyed, a lot of people didn't know what to _do, _how to _act_…their common sense and originality had been repressed for so long – it was only fair they were educated, were taught the importance of…everything. But it's something I believe in, something I can do with my time.

It's a difficult job sometimes, especially with our growing population. The women pregnant from Godspeed's previous (and last) Season have given birth, and there are residential, overcrowding problems. I don't have to babysit the children, thank the stars, but the personal well-being of everyone is something dear to my heart now. I tend to over work myself, yet not as much as I hear Elder does.

I look at him now, stare out the large window of my lab, and watch him down at the center of the sidewalk in front of the Council Building. He's standing in a group of people with his back to me. It looks like he's gesturing, pointing, giving orders.

I can't help but marvel at how much he's matured - so much, _so much_ in just two years. He's a leader now, a real bona fide leader, not a teenage boy acting brave for a girl he admires. But I'm no longer a part of that scenario.

We've grown apart over the last year, mostly because of our schedules and responsibilities, It sounds ridiculous, considering everything we've been through together, how close we were, but that's just how it goes sometimes.

Still, I find I can't let go of him so easily. Some days, I let myself sit back, push away the floppies on my desk, turn off my wi-com, and just watch him.

It might make me a creep, but I don't care.

The environment of Centauri is harsh even in the best times, almost uninhabitable, and has done a lot of good for him, done a lot for all of us. We're all hardier somehow, stronger, more resistant. Maybe it's because of all that's happened, all that we've been through; maybe it's something in the air.

Yeah, Centauri has been kind to Elder, and I'm not the only one who notices. Plenty of women appreciate him, and not just because he's the city's leader. I try not to give any attention to the whispers and the giggles, and I certainly hold back any objections. It's not exactly normal to stake a claim to a person, anyway. I have no right to lay claim to a human being, especially if what we had is in the past, as much as I hate to admit it. No one has a real claim to anything, I've come to realize, and it's all a matter of choice.

Choice.

The inhabitants of Centauri-Earth had a choice. They could kill us, slaughter us all the second we stepped out of the escape shuttle, or let us live peacefully, maybe even welcome us. It was a surprise, leaving the shuttle and coming face-to-face with these strange people. They're humanoids, fortunately, and I don't know how everyone would have reacted if they were frightening, grotesque monsters – probably in a violent way.

Not that there _wasn't_ fighting when we first arrived. The Centaurians remind me of Indians, in a childish sort of way. They're slightly taller than us, willowy; they've got elongated faces, petite features, and have a darker tinge to their complexions, not unlike the _monoethnic_ Godspeed crew. Their technology isn't limited, but they chose to be more attuned to the nature on Centauri than base their culture on tech – much different from us, from humans.

Our leaders, Elder and what seems to be the "president" among the huge population of Centauri, met almost immediately after the planet-landing. It was a big step for Elder, probably nerve-racking, and I wish I could have been there for him. But there's no point in thinking like that.

We're friendly with the people now, other than a few of ours who think we need to take the planet over, and a few of theirs who want us gone.

We've even, as strange as it sounds, mixed with the population. It was a long, awkward process, months of research between our races, but we finally discovered that yes – it was possible for our people to "mingle". We worked hard to create a stable, peaceful relationship, and after months of violence, debates, and arguments over land, we're able to live happily, intermixed.

Well, for the most part, I guess.

There have been a few acts of vandalism, some hate crimes between us in the past few weeks, and I assume that's what Elder is speaking to the group about now. It's a mix of us and the Centaurians, all clustered around him, nodding and muttering to each other. They all look upset and distraught. As I watch the scene play out, a few of the Centaurians leave the group in a fuss.

Elder, in a familiar display of frustration, shoves his fingers through his hair, messing the dark locks and creating a halo of silly springs around his face that I want to run _my_ hands through. I see why he's so popular, why he's constantly reelected as president of the settlement. I _try_ not to let my eyes linger on the lines of his prominent shoulder blades or the dark, strong biceps that connect to them.

I thank the stars once again, this time for the skin-tight garments that most citizens wear nowadays. The pattern and Centari-solitary plants to make the special, almost indestructible material that were passed out as a gift from Centauri-Earth's inhabitants. It's all our weavers make now, from skirts to pants to the full-body suits that many researchers wear to protect themselves. The fabric helps the sometimes unpredictable temperatures of the planet seem less inhospitable, and has been a life saver to us all – not to mention a constant distraction for _me._

_Get a hold of yourself, Amy_, my conscious snaps. I obey, as best I can, tearing my eyes from Elder and turning back to the crew of my station, and the current problem our psychology crew is discussing. Recently, adolescents from a nearby Centauri township have been causing trouble, promoting the construction of gangs between us.

Since it's the end of the work day, and soon Centauri-Earth's suns will be setting, I begin a quick, snipped speech on our next steps to prevent any further violence. However, I stop in the middle of my sentence suddenly, gears turning.

I need an excuse to talk to Elder after so long, so why not speak to him under the disguise of concern? Of course, I _am_ concerned about the violence situation but...

I dismiss my crew with a wave, watching as they all head off in different directions, through various exists. I don't blame them for leaving so quickly – the day is late, and they want to get home to their families. _I_ want to go home too, but I know my parents won't be in until much later, so there's no rush on my part.

As everyone packs up, I begin to run various conversations through my head, playing out the ways I could approach Elder.

"_Sir, I needed to speak with you about some disciplinary problems involving-"_

"_Amy. It's been a long time. Would you like to go back to my quarters in the Officer's Wing and fu-"_

"_Yes."_

Shit.

I need to stop this nonsense.

I wonder when these silly fantasies started, why I just can't _frexing_ let go of him. Despite my confliction, I dare a peek over my shoulder, back out the large window. Elder still stands in the town's center; feet spaced apart with an air of confidence on the metallic ground, watching people pass by. Our settlement, not far from where we touched down two years ago, is populated with Centauri and human citizens alike. We worked hard to build this place, staring from the ground up. They walk past him, some not noticing who _exactly_ he is, others stopping to wave or ask questions or just halt, starstruck.

The city, which the council dubbed Godspeed, is set up like a circle. Farms and smaller settlements surround the outskirts of the city. The conjoined Research and Education Centers twist around the city's inner frame, hugging the huge Business District, filled with stalls and family-owned businesses. The Residential District stretches along the outer ring, and the center of Godspeed is devoted to the Council, the cabinet of councilmen and women who take care of the city, led by Elder.

From my window on the first floor I can see the gardens devoted to Harley, the museum across the koi pond - I can even see the setting suns cast shadows across Elder's handsome face as he turns around and heads for the council building. Unsure and disheartened, I turn back to my station and begin shuffling papers, waving to some of the assistants as they stick around, loitering.

_Amy, what the hell are you doing?_

I've done this for two years, let myself slip away from him. I care for him still, deeply, but there are more important things we both need to focus on. There's too much responsibility weighted on our shoulders for us to be running around like willy-nilly teenagers.

Even still, I need to speak with him about the recent security issues, so I wi-com the Council Office to make an appointment for the next morning.


	2. From Me To You

_a/n: So for those of you who are reading this, THANK YOU! I appreciate all the views (and any feedback you might have). Enjoy! (:_

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It's so strange, how his office is so identical to the ones on Earth that I remember. There's a secretary, sitting at her desk, speaking into her wi-com in clipped, uninterested sentences. She's dressed in the same suit I am, the one we all wear, but it's got the emblem of the city on it, and her name sewed into the skintight fabric.

I look down to my own jumpsuit, slightly jealous of her curves and straight hair and pretty face. I'm not insanely self-conscious, but I'm nervous about this meeting. My jacket has a few wrinkles in it, and I begin to smooth them out just as a door slides open across the room.

A woman steps out, looking prim, proper, and very business-like. She's wearing a lime-colored shawl over her jumpsuit, and I feel under dressed all of a sudden. "You're the lead researcher of the Psy unit?" she asks, and she sounds so bored and impolite that I wrinkle my nose in distaste.

"Amy Martin, yeah," I correct her, and she shrugs before disappearing through the doorway again. I assume I'm supposed to follow her, so I do. I'm lead through a series of tight hallways, every so often passing large conference rooms and offices. Everything is so sleek and elegant here, and the floor plan is efficient and simple.

Eventually I'm led through a huge set of shiny double-doors that open into a large room full of research stations, cubicles, and busy workers. The woman points vaguely across the floor, towards another pair of doors that I assume go to Elder's office.

How strange that we've been here for only two years, and already there's an orderly business system. It's so likened to the buildings on Earth that it's almost uncanny. Men and women speak into their wi-coms, watching monitors and brushing their fingers over touch screens every so often.

The double doors open automatically as I approach them. Inside isn't Elder's office but an elevator, and I step into it uncertainly. It moves quickly, making my ears pop with the uncomfortable speed, and I'm glad to stumble out of it when the doors slide open with a blip.

"Sorry for the delay, I had a meeting with the police force that carried over into your time," Elder says, and I stare at him from across the room, completely unsure what to say. I look pretty brain-dead, standing there and watching him shuffle items around on his desk impatiently.

He's changed _so much_ in two years, so much that it's like a completely different person. He's grown his hair a little bit, and the curls bop and twist as he moves, still not looking up at me. He's taller now, as if he wasn't a giant before, and despite the apparent office work, has certainly…built up.

I am a turtle, awkwardly stuck on its back, flopped over and desperate to get back on its feet. Even after so much time, he's _still_ able to take my breath away, and it's a little ridiculous.

"Anyway," he says, clearing his throat, and I do the same thing, feeling stupid and hormonal and young, even though I'm older than Elder is.

He finally looks up, and I'm struck by his _eyes_, frex, and the spark in them and the memories of kissing him and staring into those irises, and dear _God,_ I've forgotten how to breathe again.

He blinks, and I try not to grin at the way his eyebrows knit in slight confusion.

"Amy?" he says, and this time I do smile a little bit.

I have gone over thousands and thousands of things I want to admit to him, things I want to gush and gossip about with my best friend. There are so many sentences and words bubbling to the front of my mind, balancing on the tip of my tongue, and I'm worried that if I open my mouth I'll babble like an idiot. I take a moment to shift through them, figure out one that sounds perfect, classy, funny, flirty…something that makes me seem grown-up and sure of myself.

In the end, though, I settle with:

"Hi."

I feel like this should be a moment from those romance novels where the hero and heroine run into each others' arms, in slow motion, before embracing and having an amazingly sweet reunion. I guess we're not cut out to be the heroes of a novel, so we both settle for staring. Awkwardly.

"Hi," Elder says finally, breaking the silence, and then starts walking towards me, "hi, Amy, hi."

I wonder if he's lost it or something, because he repeats that phrase over and over until he's standing in front of me. I have to crane my neck to meet his eyes because gosh, has he gotten tall, and is that annoying or what because I'm _older_!

"So, uh, other than the obvious, what's new?" I say, a little too softly and timidly, in my humble opinion.

He smiles then, a sunshine-bright grin that gives me gooseflesh, that spreads a warmth from my fingers to the tips of my toes. I feel like I'm staring at Centauri-Earth's biggest sun (which is dangerous because it's so much brighter than Earth's sun), because this warm glow comes off of him. I feel like smiling back but I'm just too shocked to do anything but sit there and _stare at him_.

"Well." I say, because I'm not sure any other words will form correctly at the moment.

Elder steps forward, fast as lightning, and kisses me. I have to focus every single molecule of willpower to keep my knees from buckling. _Oh_, I think, _this is nice._ It's been a really, really long time since we've done this, way too long now that I think about it. I've almost forgotten how naturally good at kissing he is, but I'm pretty sure I won't forget again because _sweet Jesus_ is this refreshing.

I can feel the strength of his arms because he wraps them around me, tugging me closer so fast that my feet forget to move with the rest of my body and I end up slumping against his chest. I recover pretty quickly, stumbling forward to even the playing field, and my arms float up of their own accord and grab the collar of his jumpsuit.

He's gotten a lot better at this, I notice blankly. He's almost desperate to be closer, which makes me feel pretty awesome, so I grin against his mouth and push myself into him. There's practically no space between our bodies now, and I really wouldn't have it any other way.

I break off the kiss as soon as I can, breathing like I've just run fourteen miles. He groans when I pull away and leans forward, gently tugging me in for another kiss. It's not like he has to convince me all that much. I go pretty willingly, this time threading my fingers into his dark hair and pulling whenever he does something I particularly enjoy – which is about every second, so I imagine his scalp probably hurts.

"Missed you," he gasps against my mouth, coming up for air. I don't answer because he tongue dances across my bottom lip thanks to the close proximity of our lips, so I'm on him again in a flash, biting and nipping and trying not to let this get too out of control but enjoying this crazy, impulsive moment.

"Amy," he groans, mouth close to my ear. His voice is deep and brooding and needy – I've never thought of my name as _sexy_, but the way he's saying it – God. "We have to stop, please," he chokes out, still teasing the skin of my neck with his lips.

"Doesn't sound like you want to," I say, and he laughs quietly.

"I mean, if we don't stop, you're not leaving for a very, _very_ long time."

Whoa. I shiver; spastic little rhythms in my muscles that make me tighten my hold around his neck. So, maybe I am trembling a little. I reminding myself of Chihuahua, but, in my defense, Elder has never used that tone of voice with me. It is rough and low, teetering on the edge of a groan, and filled with a promise that we've never fulfilled but might end up completing in the next few minutes. It, really, doesn't seem like such a bad thing, to be stuck with him for hours, so I tell him this.

I'm not surprised that he's gotten more confident since the time he became "mayor," or whatever people are calling him. I _am,_ however, surprised at his new sexual fearlessness.

Elder slips his hands down to my hips, flexing his hands palms open and then squeezing me closer, latching onto my lips once again. I don't have any complaints (who would?) so I go along with it.

We stop again, though, a few minutes later. I realize that I have been plopped down on his desk and have wrapped my legs around his thighs. I stare at him for a moment before jumping away and attempting to straighten my jacket and jumpsuit, the zipper of which has been pulled down slightly.

Elder watches me, which is slightly nerve-wracking. "It's probably good that we stopped," he says whimsically, and there is a familiar, mischievous tone to the words, one that I have come to miss in two years. "I would hate to have to get a new desk."

If my heart hadn't been flipping out of control before, it sure was now. I wave my finger at him, mocking seriousness and trying to zip my jumpsuit with my freehand.

"You are _so_ unprofessional," I say, and he shrugs a little, smiling softly at me. I feel like a chocolate bar that's been in the sun for too long – I am literally melting at the ecstatically happy expression on his face.

Elder steps forward to hug me, wrapping his arms around my back and almost crushing me against his chest. He rests his chin on the top of my head, damn him for being so tall, and I smile into his shoulder, breathing in that familiar scent.

"I missed you," he says, and I nod, at a loss for words, against the soft material of his jumpsuit. I can't help but speak up again.

"But seriously, you better not start _all_ of your meetings like that."


End file.
